Love from Demi
by Zirkeline
Summary: Having been abandoned at the mere age of 10, Dominique Clark suffers severe psychological trauma that prevents her from entering Hogwarts until 4th year. With an unknown past and a strong temperament, she creates a large impression on Hogswarts, especially on the Marauders. This is a story of love, comedy, and suspense.


The Morningstar Tavern reeked of ale and sweat, as it always does near the time of daylight. Mrs. Wenlock, an old woman around her 50s, scurried among the tables with jugs of ale to refill the mens' glasses. Although being a large tavern with fourteen tables, she was the only waitress there, so at this hour, she was busy as a horse.

"Thanks, Julie." Eric Richards, a regular, croaked while he brought the refilled cup to his thirsty lips, "I'll pay tomorrow, love."

"Your word is as cheap as your wallet, Eric. I'd rather see you put your money on the table right now, or you can get out of my tavern," she huffed and proceeded to advance to the next set of hungry customers.

Eric sloppily grinned and muttered, "Maybe I can pay you in another way.." while he hastily pinched her backside, making her jolt forward into the other table. The men stood up and inched forward to Mrs. Wenlock in a daunting manner. Mrs. Wenlock had been watching these men as they came in at 10 pm. They uniformly wore black business suits and jackets, which isn't irregular considering the tavern was in the outskirts of London, but they only spoke in hushed tones.

From their manner, she could gather that they were not pleased with the disruption to their meeting, so she hastily turned around and shouted, "Eric, you son of a gun! There is to be no sexual harassment in this tavern. Not in the next 10 years, nor in the last 20 years I've been working here," she underlined, "Get out now!"

Grudgingly, he downed his ale and got onto one knee, "Sweet, sweet Julie. You don't mean that.."

"Get out before I restrain you from ever setting foot in the Morningstar." She threatened, whilst she motioned the man towards the exit.

Opening the bar doors, the two felt the cool mist of dawn settle on their faces. It was the coldest night of London. In the far distance, a heart-wrenching scream could be heard. Eric and Mrs. Wenlock forgot about their petty dispute and began to hurry to where the scream was.

In the nearby park, skirted by a forest, a young boy, no older than six, stood, carrying something much heavier than his weight could manage. He was shaking his head and crying. Eric stood still to see before him, the effect the ale had on his system seemed to vanish in an instant. Mrs. Wenlock passed by him and rushed to the boy. As she neared, the boy fainted in exhaustion and what he was carrying, fell next to him into the dewy grass.

It was a young girl, covered in blood due to large gashes on her back. She was older than the boy, just shy of eleven years. Momentarily, Mrs. Wenlock held a hand over her mouth, letting the situation sink in. Soon after, she turned around to see Eric, who had not moved from his spot, "Come, Eric. I need you to help me carry the kids back to the tavern. They are both fainted and cold. What poor things. Had we not come out now, they would've died within the hour." She sadly sighed, as she heaved the young, bloodied girl into her arms. Eric gently carried the boy.

When they arrived to the tavern with the children, the suited men eyed their every movement as they proceeded up the stairs to Mrs. Wenlock's quarters. There, they placed the kids on a long couch near the fireplace.

As Mrs. Wenlock opened the cabinet to retrieve some quilts, she noticed Eric was kneeling down near the couch, stroking the boy's hair away from his face. "Thank you for the help down there." She said, "I'm not sure what to do with them yet, but I'd rather you not tell anyone of these kids. There's probably an explanation and I'll hear it in the morrow."

"Julie, I can't leave them like this. Look at them! The young lass is bloodied and her face expresses pure pain. What could have happened?"

She kneeled down next to Eric and put her hand around his shoulder, "Time will tell," she cooed.

Downstairs, a sense of uneasiness and discomfort persisted. One of the suited men looked into the face of another, as he placed his hand on his pocketed wand. He whispered a string of words and vanished. The Beegee's hit "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart" dulled to silence.


End file.
